The 'Ole Brawl
The 'Ole Brawl A boy of maybe twenty walked into the Saloon, his head high, his smirk wide. He had short, tusseled, dirty blonde hair. He was tall and muscular, and wore a beat up brown vest with a dark, tan, leather undershirt. He wore dark blue pants with a forty five in holsters on each side. The right boot sported a knife, which apparently belonged to a set, as another identical knife hung from the belt. None the less, the boy had come to cause trouble, that I know. The boy scratched his face, his chin and jaw outlined by a trimmed beard that didn't go over the lip. He said after little hesitation, "Now, which one of 'ya yeller bellied bastards wants to fight?" He grinned ear to ear. The Goings Gang, notorious for their brutality stood up. They were large, angry men of the west rallied by a traveler. One spat at the young man, while another asked me to hold his hat. There were six of them. Six very pissed off criminals. "Now'a what did you just say, boy?" The later, Jona Goings, looked the young man in the eyes. "I said, you wanna fight, miss?" "Get 'em!" The men pounced at him like a coyote to a rabbit, flipping a table over onto it's flat side and throwing punches like crazy. They whacked him good a few times, smacked him upside the head, and kicked him hard on the ground. Now, I kid you not, the boy was fine. He stood up and swung at Jona and his boys like no tomorrow. Jona fell first, his nose bloodied and lip fat, and his anger rising. The biggest of the group took a powerful headbutt to the nose before falling flat, landing on a table so hard it snapped. The boy remained silent now, however, having lost the attitude. He had set up the gang, knowing they would share a few fists without second thought. He must of had some real big reason to take on the Goings Gang. A reason unknown to them. Jona immediately began clawing at some bar stools to get up, standing up with rage bubbling within. He charged with full force, ramming the young lad through the door. They landed a few feet outside, and Jona started throwing punches as soon as he lost his daze. The others began cheering him on, yelling slurs and insults at the boy. "Who's the yellow bellie now?" "You gonna cry, boy?" "You should not have messed with Jona." To put it more accurately, Jona should not have messed with him. By the fifteenth punch, the newcomer kicked the older man off, and stood up unfazed. He punched Jona once to the face, and as the ring leader fell to one knee, he brought his foot up and slammed hard on his shoulder, flinging Mr. Goings into the outside wall. The other members f the gang tried to trade punches with their adversary, but landed only few and knocked him down only once. The younger cowboy was faster, stronger, and his chin resembled a mountain. A few men, women, children, and whores began to watch. The spectators talked among themselves, in awe of the one man army. They laughed in glee or shouted in fear, but did not stop to watch the onslaught. A few of the whores even began to show off. "I bet you got some hang, honey." "You get a free night if you perform even better in bed." Three men were left standing against the man, who had finally began to wear down. A negro man threw a flying uppercut, connecting with the boy's left cheek. The boy fell for a second time, resisting a barrage of kicks from the three remaining desperadoes. The boy roared in anger, springed from the ground, and tackled the black man. He pushed down the man's arms with one hand, and began to lay waste to his victim's face. Each punch created a loud smacking sound, and once the man fell unconscious, he was dragged off by Jake and Ryan Holson, who failed in keeping their enemy down once again. A strong punch to the smaller Jake put him flat on the ground, and a boxing match insured between the last two standing. The boy refused to block, only throwing a few punches and taking many from Ryan. Suddenly, Ryan landed three shots to the defenders face, and as he threw the fourth, a hand grabbed his arm, and twisted it toward his chest, breaking and dislocating. The gang member screamed. Suddenly, he was knocked out from several, quick, powerful punches while his arm was still held tightly to his chest by the boy. The young man threw his last punch, splitting Ryan's cheek wide open. The boy was smiling, and walked straight over to the gang leader's limp body. He shook Jona awake. His tone was different from before, gruff, angry, the youth and playfulness missing. It was anger. "Now, you listen you son of a bitch." He grabbed him by the throat, "You ever come near this town, my house, or my sister ever again-and I fucking mean it-You will not survive. I will personally tear out your heart, and shove it down your throat, do 'ya hear?" The man let out a small grunt of understanding, and slmuped to the ground. That was the story of the Brawl you here from so many stories, but that's the truth of it. There was no sherrif, bucking horse, or maiden. It was a man looking for revenge for his sister's rape. The man was angry, and he proved that a hero can really exist. Category:Stories